


BGF's Fallout Drabbles

by Biggreenfeet



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Cute, Drabbles, F/M, Fallout 4 - Freeform, Fallout New Vegas - Freeform, Nuka World, OCs - Freeform, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biggreenfeet/pseuds/Biggreenfeet
Summary: A series of drabbles about my different Fallout OCs. Some motivated by tumblr asks, others just cause. They are set in FO4 Boston and New Vegas. Casey is my Courier. Maxx is my soul survivor. Wesley is a vault dweller living in the commonwealth. Each chapter will be titled with the characters in the story.Enjoy!





	1. Casey and Boone: Dog Days of Nuclear Summer

“Nuh-uh.” Boone crossed his arms.

“Aw, come on. You know he doesn’t like hats.” Casey’s frown was instantly erased by the slobbering mutt licking at the freckles on her face. Chunky strands of hair crowded her forehead and reflected the warm tones of the sunrise. 

The campfire had devolved into a smoldering pile of ash. Boone had been up for some time keeping watch. The dog was a relatively new addition to their party. The former sniper hadn’t been thrilled with their dealings with Freeside’s local gang leader- the King- and he guessed the feeling was mutual. The Kings, it turned out, did not take kindly to NCR folk former or present. He wasn’t sure exactly how, but the pair had ended up with the man’s robotic dog. 

_ Rex.  _

He turned his gaze back to the two of them with a frown. Rex was sprawled across the courier’s lap and panting happily. She rubbed at the whorl on his chest, and cooed ridiculous sentiments into the dog’s ear. Boone watched his ears twitch with each exhalation.  He pushed the aviators up the bridge of his nose with a finger and his eyes lingered on the pair with a twinge of jealousy.

Casey looked up from her bedroll, grinning like an idiot. “Boone…” she teased. “You know you want to…”

His brow creased further. “No.”

She sighed, blowing her bangs upwards. “Fine.” Her fingers skimmed over Rex’s back and she scritched at the base of his tail. “Don’t let that asshole get to you, big boy.” She chuckled. “At least  _ I _ won’t wear a hat.”

She knew he was glaring behind the mirrored lenses. 

“You ever have a dog, Boone?”

His head dipped slightly.

Casey breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Good.”

He took the bait. “What’s  _ good _ ?”

“You had a dog.” Rex licked her cheek and she continued rubbing him down.

“...And?”

“You’re a dog person.”

“I am not a dog person.” The dog cocked his head curiously at the former soldier’s words. 

Her hands were suddenly still. “Yeah, ya are.”

His words were snippy. “What makes you think I’m a dog person?” He could feel his face getting hot.

Casey ignored his acidic tone. “Because  _ I _ trust you.”

“The hell’s that matter?” 

“I don’t trust people who don’t like dogs. Or people dogs don’t like. Or people who don’t like junk food. They might be the scariest of all.”

“Look, let’s just drop this. It’s not going anywhere.” 

She kept pushing. “Sure it is-”

“I said drop it!” 

The happy energy drained from her face. The glowing electric beams in the dog’s brain case cast an eerie glow. “Alright, alright. Consider it dropped.” She gave Rex a gentle push and got to her feet. “C’mon boy, let’s go for a walk.”

Without another word she and the robotic canine wandered away from the camp, silhouettes against a brilliant coral sky. 

The sinking feeling in his chest was unexpected and he rubbed his temples. The permanent crease in his brow softened. He sighed. Boone’s voice was quiet. “Yeah, I had a dog once.”

It had been a scraggly mutt, covered in dirt and dust and half-dead. He’d found it out in the desert amongst the craggy hills behind the little house. It had first growled at him, arching its back and raising its pathetic hackles. But his boyhood self had a way with animals. He pulled the segmented silver camping bowl from his pack and unceremoniously dumped the contents of his canteen into it. His voice was gentle as he coaxed the pitiful creature to drink. 

The two sat for a long time, quietly studying one another. It was the dried meat that finally won the beast over. Slowly but surely it had stepped towards him until Boone was close enough to stroke the dog’s muzzle. He proffered the last of it, feeling hopeful. The mutt had mouthed it gently, his tail giving a slow wave. Pure joy had filled the boy’s chest as his four-legged companion followed him home. 

It was as if the depressive haze crowding his brain had thinned. Boone’s mind wandered past the memory. He’d loved that dog. Hell, he’d loved a lot of things. He’d loved  _ life _ . His life. There was a time when he’d been happy, carefree. Young. Foolish. He’d enjoyed being a soldier. Training. Rising through the ranks. There’d been a cockiness driving him forward. The friendly competition between him and Manny. He’d loved his partner as a brother. That kind of trust was rare in the Mojave. 

And then there was her.  _ Carla _ . He’d loved her more than anything he’d ever loved. He could still picture her that day on the Strip. Their wedding. Their life in Novac. 

He swallowed hard.

_ The baby. _

He pulled the aviators off and rubbed at his eyes. The sudden sounds pulled him from ruminations of the past. Masked figures scrambled over the ridge. A javelin whistled past his ear. Bullets battered the sandy ground in front of him, sending up clouds of dust in their wake. 

He and Casey had thankfully chosen to camp between two large boulders. He automatically ripped the rifle from his back and slid behind the cover. His head darted out from behind the rock as he counted the mercenaries. Bullets chewed at the rock surface as he pulled his head back.

_ 1, 2, 3. _

Boone took a breath and fired off four rounds. Three of them found their targets. Two of the men had actually hit the ground. 

The sniper peeked around the rock again, counting, firing, reloading. His enemies erupted in wet gurgles as they fell one by one. 

The small grin stretching across his features was wiped cleanly off as the butt of a gun smashed into his skull. The world became a blur and he felt oddly sick with dizziness as his body collided with the ground. 

_ This is it. This is where it finally catches up to me. This- _

His thoughts were interrupted by the howls of pain above him. Boone could hear the sound of fabric ripping and savage, angry growling. 

“Get off me you filthy-” But the legionnaire never got to finish his thought as the gunshot echoed over the landscape. 

He could barely hear the shouts over the roaring in his ears, but the words became clearer and clearer. 

“Boone!”

Something wet lapped  against his face. 

_ Blood? Water? Is it raining? _

Casey spun him over, staring at his eyes. “Boone- talk to me Boone. C’mon- say  _ something _ you fucking idiot!” The woman’s face was red and shone with sweat. Freckles appeared on her face as his eyes focused. 

Rex weaseled his way between them, tongue sweeping the dust from his face in wet strokes. 

He groaned, eyes shifting between woman and dog. 

“Boone? Boone- you there?” Casey gripped the sides of his face. “Say something. Please.”

“Yeah.” He leaned up onto his elbows. 

The courier blinked, but sat backwards as pushed himself into a sitting position. She watched as his features twisted in discomfort, but he seemed to be in one piece.

Boone blinked a few times to clear his vision. Rex sat at his side, panting and looking between the two. A hand reached out to rest on his braincase and scratch behind the dog’s ears.

“Yeah. I guess i’m a dog person.”

Casey looked annoyed. “You know what else you are?”

“What?”

“An idiot.”

 

*** 

Boone could see the familiar skyline of New Vegas on the horizon. He marched behind his companions, eyes darting over the landscape. Soon, they would make it to Freeside. Soon, the dog would be back with his actual owner. The thought of it left a hollowness in his chest. 

  
Casey glanced over her shoulder at him. Her eyes dropped to the maroon sticking out of his pocket with a smile. 

She  _ knew _ he was a dog person.


	2. Casey and Boone: Opposites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boone muses about the women in his life.

She was almost nothing like Carla. In fact, the two women were damn near complete opposites.

_“You only trust strangers?”_

_“I said it was a start. This town…Nobody looks me straight in the eye anymore.”_

Craig Boone inhaled the tobacco and exhaled slowly. His gaze drifted to the slow rise and fall of his companion’s chest. He could make out the hard angles of her face as she slept, muscles slack. It was the only time she ever looked at peace. Part of him was jealous that she never seemed to have nightmares. Never woke up screaming in a cold sweat.

Her sudden shifting caught him off guard and he jumped slightly, almost knocking the bottle of whiskey into the dirt. False alarm. Her back was to him now and he took the last drag of the cigarette, flicking the small orange glow into the night. The sniper let his mind drift as he rested his back against a rock. He continued to think about comparisons. He wished they were benign.

_“You look lost. Maybe I can help you. I’m Carla.”_

_“Boone. Er, Craig. Craig Boone.”_

Carla’s hair had been long- almost to the middle of her back. She’d always pulled and twisted it into elegant shapes. It was a habit. A routine. Even in a dusty little town off the highway, Carla Boone transformed herself into an otherworldly vision. A woman from another time. Why she’d picked him was beyond his understanding.

_“Well, I’m not from here.”_

_“No. No you’re not, are you? Maybe you shouldn’t go. Not just yet.”_

Casey’s hair had been shorn clumsily and close to her scalp the day they met. Two ugly scars snaked their way down from her temples towards the base of her neck. Her face was sun damaged and freckles bloomed over her forehead, nose, and cheeks.Thin whiskers of smile lines played at the corners of her eyes and mouth though her forehead was permanently creased where her brows came together. That day she was burned red. _Obviously travelled all day_ , he’d thought to himself.

Carla had been lithe and graceful in her movements. She had long legs and delicate fingers. Her skin had been soft to the touch. He’d never understood how. Everything in the Mojave was harsh. Dry. Sharp. Yet there she was, smelling of gently perfumed soaps with her unblemished skin. She was thin, her body all soft lines. Pregnancy had somehow made her even more beautiful to him. The smooth curve of her belly under gauzy cotton dresses gave him a sense of home. Roots.

Whatever Casey had been through had made her hard. She was broad shouldered and muscular. Ideal for a courier. She had thick, ropey limbs. Scraped up knuckles. Scars. She smelled like sweat, leather, and earth. The red bandana she wore brought out the subtle reds in her hair and the warm undertones of her skin. She was part of the Mojave. Carla had been anything but.

There were other attributes the women didn’t share. Casey was headstrong and fiercely independent. If she could do it herself, she did. Carla had always enjoyed letting people do things for her. It made her feel important. Special. Carla liked to plan and think things through where Casey was reckless and played things hard and loose. Almost like she had nothing left to lose. Boone could identify with that.

Then there were the similarities. Both women were stubborn. You couldn’t tell either one of them a damn thing. Both of them could anticipate the needs of others. For Carla it meant taking care of her husband. For Casey it meant someone had his back. Someone he trusted with his life.

Boone sighed and turned his attention skyward. The moon hung low on the horizon. There might have been more stars visible if not for the distant lights of New Vegas. He slung the last of the amber liquid down his throat. After the burn came the pleasant easing of his muscles and a warmth in his cheeks and chest.

His eyes found their way back to the fire-lit form of his companion. He tried to tell himself the heat pulsing throughout his body was just the whiskey. He almost believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy writing Boone. He's so cranky and such an introvert.


End file.
